


It's Never Enough

by strawberrykait



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Hogwarts, Redeemed Draco, Romance, Secret Relationship, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1320781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrykait/pseuds/strawberrykait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione and Draco find a rare moment during the war to be together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slytheringurrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytheringurrl/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.
> 
> **End Notes:** Inspired by the image, “Our Time Together Is Never Quite Enough.” This is dedicated to the artist, SlytherinGurrl. Great Big Thank You to Dormiensa, and to the Hawthorn  & Vine Moderators for hosting the 2014 Reverse Challenge!  
>  **Beta(s):** Dormiensa
> 
>  
> 
>   
> Our Time Together is Never Quite Enough, by [SlytherinGurrl](http://dramione.org/viewuser.php?uid=23030)

**“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.”-- Federico García Lorca**

 

Hermione Granger was walking across the grounds, without an apparent direction, her eyes focused on the green grass beneath her feet while both hands constantly tucked her long, brown hair behind both ears in order to properly search… for something.

_It has to be here_ , she anxiously thought, nudging her foot through the high grass. Her impatience was growing as her time dwindled away. She refused to waste time looking at her wristwatch again, choosing instead to broaden her field. 

Oh, how she hated these hurried meetings, and he knew as much, yet he persisted in making these Portkeys so difficult to find! On one hand, she knew why that was, but during frantic moments like this, it really irritated her.

Just when she was this close to a full-on panic, she found it: a rusty-bronze skeleton key, one she’d seen many times before. Hermione snatched it up from the grass and glanced at her watch. With mere seconds to spare, she thought, just before feeling the familiar tug behind her navel.

The journey via Portkey seemed shorter this time. Before she could prepare herself, she was descending, down toward a hill dotted with vibrantly coloured wild flowers. She managed to not collapse into an ungraceful heap. As she was finger-combing her wild hair back into place, someone called out her name.

She spun about. There he was, standing beneath a pale weeping willow, holding back the limp branches like a velvet curtain, smiling at her. Hermione barely refrained from running into his arms but did hurry the last few feet.

He yanked her against his chest, the branches cascading over them, hiding them. He moaned when he buried his face in her thick hair. Hermione’s fingers splayed across his narrow back; one hand cupped his head, holding him tightly. Although it had been less than two weeks since they’d last been together, she had missed him desperately. Every time they had had to part, another piece of her heart shattered. She never wanted to let him go. 

Hermione pulled back.

“Oh, Draco! Let me see you. Are you hurt? Are you—”

“Shh.” His finger pressed lightly against her lips before his mouth replaced it. His kiss spoke volumes of his longing and desperation for her as well, all the pent-up emotions neither was able to confess or glory in. Her entire body seemed to flush from his passionate kisses. Every worry melted away, if only for the moment, if only for now. There was never enough time for doubts, anyway, so she tossed them aside and kissed him back fervently. 

Time was too precious to squander it needlessly; they both understood, and so they made the most of what little time they found to be together today. Her hands flitted across the tops of his shoulders, tracing down the length of his arms, while his hands encircled her face, pushing the hair back from her eyes. 

“We were sent to Dobrich—Jugson, Rookwood, Zarkoff and me. They had us looking for—”

It was her turn to silence him with more kisses and embraces. “Later. Tell me later, but for now…”

Draco understood her urgency and began tugging off her jacket. She snapped to attention, discarding her previously gentle, welcoming touches for more aggressive wrenching, the desperation to see him, to feel him sending her into another panic. He laughed at her frantic moves, stepping back a bit to allow her better access to his trousers. 

_He may be laughing now, but he’ll thank me later._

Draco’s pants pooled around his ankles and he nearly fell arse-over-kettle trying to take them fully off. Meanwhile, Hermione had managed to yank off her robes and under clothes with very little effort. He retrieved his wand and transfigured his discarded clothing into a thick quilt, spread it out beneath the willow tree, and reached once more for her.

Draco’s skin was hot and smooth, the warmth of the sun evident and inviting. She felt his hands in her hair, buried deep, tugging firmly. Draco held onto her with all of his strength, like a desperate, drowning man.

_Who isn’t these days?_

Hermione’s bare breasts were squished against his hard chest, and a thrill zinged through her at the contact. Her fingers dug into the skin of his back, marking him as hers and no one else’s. She left a trail of wet kisses across his clavicle, around one shoulder. She felt his hands lower to her bum and squeeze, lifting her slightly off the ground and carrying her over to the quilt, where he not-so-gently laid her down.

† † †

Afterwards, she lay nestled under his shoulder, skin to skin, matching her breathing to his. The sunlight filtered through the swaying branches, dappling his pale, scarred skin. He was warm to the touch, and real, and hers, if only for these short, sweet, stolen moments.

His fingers were idly twisting in her hair, wrapping around and around, and then letting go. Hermione smiled, remembering how much he’d mocked her hair when they were children; now, it was his favourite feature, as he would mention frequently. Hermione rubbed her nose against his skin, smelling the summer grass and their combined sweat. She wished she could bottle that smell. 

Her hand was held tightly in his, resting on top of his stomach. Every time they were able to meet like this, the constant fear of everyday living vanished temporarily. She didn’t want to think about what came next. He was here now, and he was safe—if only for these fleeting moments, warm, whole and safe in her arms. For now, it was all she could expect or hope. 

She felt his muscles tense before he began to sit up. 

“No! No, wait,” she whispered, gently pulling him back down to her. “Just hold me a little longer.” Her eyes were shut tightly, afraid of the moment when he would have to leave. But that wasn’t now. It couldn’t be. _Not now. Please._

He held her for another long moment, squeezing her tightly. She knew he hated to leave her, too. But it was only for now, only until the war was over and he was able to come home to her, to build a real home with her. To live each and every day together, never worrying if tomorrow would be the day something too dreadful to name would come to pass. Soon, they would be able to put all of this misery and anxiety well behind them and move forward, together.

This was only temporary. Everything was.

Even though they both knew all of this, yearned for that future, she never said anything. How cruel it already was that they had to be separated from one another—she’d never intentionally make matters worse by complaining. Every day, they all put their lives at stake in order to save the world from the tyranny of Voldemort and those who followed him. At least she was surrounded by friends and colleagues, witches and wizards fighting alongside her, to preserve freedom for them all, pure-bloods and Muggle-borns alike. 

Draco, on the other hand, so deeply entrenched in the inner circle of Death Eaters, risked his life with every breath he took, with every hesitation, real or imagined. 

Finally, reluctantly, he sat up, reaching for their clothing. The pair dressed silently as the sun began to slip beneath the horizon. It was cooler now beneath the weeping willow, and Hermione felt a chill run through her.

She was finished before he was and took the moment to watch him, her heart thudding in her chest, the worry returning, growing once more. As Draco patted himself down, checking himself, she noticed a long, yellowing leaf sticking out from his white-blond hair. Hermione brushed it aside with a smile. A faint blush appeared on his cheeks, and her smile broadened. 

Hermione’s heart clenched. She had to let him go; it was selfish to want to keep him here, with her, out of harm. Also, all these displays of affection, tinged with futile worry, weren’t good for him, especially, as he delved back into the belly of the beast. So, she let him go, turning away to hide her welling tears. 

Draco couldn’t be fooled, however. With one hand, he pulled her back to face him, rubbing away the first fallen tear with his thumb. He smiled at her then, and she felt a quickening inside. When he bent down to kiss her lips, she felt him tremble, and another tear escaped.

He kissed her mouth countless times, followed by her cheeks, her wet eyes. Draco placed something solid, warm and heavy into her palm as he whispered, “Every day, I love you more, Hermione. Good-bye,” his voice cracking at the last.

Her mouth trembled too much to say everything she wanted to. Luckily, he already knew how she felt. 

She kept her eyes shut as he left her, unwilling to watch him Disapparate. Without looking, she knew what he had given her. Hermione vigorously wiped away her useless tears and tossed her hair back over one shoulder as she undid the clasp on her necklace. She added his wedding ring to hers on the chain, and went back to finish fighting the war.


End file.
